Foliage
by Jennis524
Summary: The foliage in the background, no longer taunts her as it alludes to a normal life. A short vignette


Title: Foliage

Author: Jen Zoromski aka Jennis524

Rating: PG

Genre: Scully angst/thinking, Post Series

Summary: The foliage in the background, no longer taunts her as it alludes to a normal life.

Author's Note: This is a milestone for me as I approach my five year anniversary of being a 'published' fanfic writer. On September 30, 2000 when I was fourteen years old was when I first placed a story on this site. Five years is a long time. I truthfully didn't know if I would be writing fanfic now, but it's addictive and I'm so glad that I've had it.

As it all started – for my '5 year anniversary'-- I present you all with a short X-Files vignette – this is the show that inspired me to write and continues to inspire me.

Enjoy! And please R&R!

Jen

Dark red and pink paint the horizon as September slowly lulls itself into the recesses of a bitter autumn. Dana Scully watches as the sun sets off setting the faint hints of foliage throughout the woods that rest solemnly behind her family home.

Years ago this image would have been no more than a picture on a wall, taunting her with the fact that she will never have a normal life.

She proved them wrong.

They all have.

Normal.

What exactly is normal?

Not fighting off unknown and unwanted life forms or knowing that at the end of the day there is someone to take off the chill from the cold and keep her warm.

If normal is the latter then she's experienced normalcy for five years.

Shivering she pulls the baby blanket that she grabbed earlier off of Meg's bed when she had the sudden urge to watch the sun set off of their back porch.

In a rare event, silence filled the house and she felt lonely.

Mulder had taken the kids to the park a few miles away to experience some father children bonding along with John and his son.

Faint scents of the toddler cling to the light pink blanket. Meg is at the point where her independence as a two and a half year old yield her from wanting to hold tightly to her mother.

Regardless, Dana still holds her, she doesn't want to miss any event with her children.

She missed too much the first time around.

And now they won't have to miss it.

They will never have to worry about not seeing their two children grow up into the independent children they have already alluded to nor will they fear the coming invasion for their lives.

They fought.

They won.

And their lives will forever just be a mystical mirroring knowing that they had saved everything, but their faces will never grace the pages of a history book nor will they be awarded any awards.

They don't want to be.

The greatest awards, the largest monetary sum would never compare to what they have been given.

Nine long years they fought for the future.

Allies were few and far between. Many times the alternative of giving up seemed extremely inviting. It, too, like the picture of the foliage taunted them. They could have had a different life. At many points they almost chose a different road to follow.

She nearly walked away from him.

What she would have missed.

In excessively, they wondered if they, too, would have to give up.

If they'd let _them_ win.

But something urged them on. They found their son, they found each other, and most importantly they found friends. Friends in John and Monica who supported them through thick and thin and in the end were the first ones to realize that the world would be saved from the coming alien invasion. Not by the means of mass weapons and even more lives lost, but within a small miracle: A little girl who with intense hazel eyes and auburn hair looks more and more like Dana every day.

All except for the gaze.

There was no doubt who her father was.

For the first few years they hid in the most visible of places.

It always seemed the safest.

It never was though.

A door slams shut in the front of the house and Dana jumps, startled. Immediately after the slamming door, two sets of small feet run through the house.

Mud, more than likely, is now a new addition to the beige carpet in the den.

Dana didn't mind. She'd take the muddy floor. She'd take the runny noses, the small fights, the dirty diapers, messy kitchen – she'd take it all.

She'd seen the other life.

"Mommy!" two and a half year old Meg runs out to her mother with a glare on her face, the beginnings of a very convincing scowl learned from none other than Dana Scully.

"What is it Meg?"

Meg points to the blanket that is around Dana's shoulders, shielding her from the crisp autumn breeze that slices through the remnants of summer.

"Mine!"

Against her daughter's struggles Dana wraps her arms around her daughter with a small laugh.

"I know it is, baby, I know."

With the foliage in the background, no longer taunting her as it alludes to a normal life, Dana Scully holds onto her struggling daughter. At two and a half, Meg Mulder would have no part in this display of affection.

Dana didn't care.

This was the life she always wanted.

And the foliage no longer taunted her.

It soothed.

FIN


End file.
